I am a mom, this I know, but there is so much I don't. Some people say motherhood is the most awesome job, it is, so why do I feel tired, dirty, and inadequate most of the time? Hopefully you will find hope, humor, and help in my rants regarding life from inside - the Mommyhood.
It's that time again, another year come and almost gone. I can not ever remember a time in my life that new year's eve didn't kick me right in the gut. The difference since I have had children is that each year is bitter sweet. Watching them grow, wondering what the year will hold - reminiscing about the year behind.
The difference this year, is that everyone in my house seems to be feeling it. At some point in the last week both of the boys have said something to me about how fast the year has gone.
I would like to tell you both that it gets better, but it does not. The older you get the faster the year seems to go by. That is why it is so important to learn now, the younger the better, to enjoy the moments. Anyone who loves me knows that I love a good quote. And a good quote for this is:
Life isn't measured by the number of breathes that you take, but the moments that take your breathe away.
There is no time like the present to start helping them learn what I am struggling with at almost 50 year old. Be in the moment, it maybe the only moment like this that you get.
I do not know that 2018 was anymore or less extraordinary than any other year but it was the year that....
My oldest made the Varsity soccer team and they went to the Elite Eight in tournament competition
My youngest has grown more in this year than in any other year of his life
My oldest son turned 16 and took his first AP class
My youngest started Junior High
I started this post and didn't finish it asking the boys to sit down with me to re-cap the year....hence why it was never finished. Maybe we will try again this year? Or maybe seeing it will make us all add out own thoughts.
We played a new game over the Thanksgiving break that may become, Lord help me, a staple in our house. If I haven't mentioned it a thousand times I have all boys, literally. I am still raising my husband. Sometimes the conversation at the dinner table sounds more like a locker room, and smell like one too but I digress.
For both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year we packed up and went to my parent house. Being at Nanna and Papa's house usually means there are fewer magic tricks from my teenagers. They do this great Houdini trick where they make themselves disappear with an electronic device. "Poof"
One afternoon when I was not cooking, again, Mom and I sat down at the table to do an easy craft I brought along hoping to engage her in some kind of non cleaning activity. Dad wondered in at one point and sat down to watch us I guess because he was not participating but he was distracting mom and asking 100 times alternately "What the Hell is that"and "Why the Hell are you doing THAT". It was super helpful - I gave thanks.
Exasperated I gave up on the ornaments and made mom and I a cup of tea and grabbed some healthyish snacks to get mom to eat something. Smelling food that was not self-serve my kids straggled into the room next. When I set a bowl of nuts on the table I could see my dad's eyes light up. Ok just be honest, anything you set in front of my dad makes his eyes light up and becomes food even if'it's not so....
After about the third time my dad went to reach his hand into the bowl my mom grabbed the edge of the bowl and slide it across the table in front of my boys. Dad quickly got defensive and spouted, "Now I can't even have my nuts!" At which point my boys busted out laughing and my mom piped up, "You don't need them ." Even I was crying now SNL isn't this funny anymore.
When we could catch out breath I sad to the boys I really hope one of your teachers asks you to write about your Thanksgiving break, only because if I had ever been an English teacher like I thought I was going to be that would absolutely be my first assignment after every holiday.
A little while later my husband appeared. His magic is not quite as spectacular as the boys. My husband's in-law magic consists of disappearing and reappearing after doing things like running 14 miles, or biking halfway home and back, or in this case going into the basement to do 300 Burpees just to see if he could.
He saw us all snacking and said "Oh I have some dark chocolate". My husband's idea of a true indulgence does not by any means meet human criteria. Once in a while he buys what is suppose to be dark chocolate but is really a form of food torture. It is organic 99% dark Cocoa with no sugar added. And every single time he eats it he has to tell us ALL about it, and offer it everyone, and say how good for you it is. No. No it's not. Even the Aztek's didn't eat a cocoa bean off the tree and say - What at treat!
So he gets his chocolate and starts asking the usual -does anyone like dark Chocolate does anyone want dark chocolate...knowing that my mom particularly will only hear chocolate and that in her current state will not remember that this is a my husband's form of food torture I am desperately trying to talk over him and steer this boat in another direction.
Alas, mom hears chocolate and says what are you eating honey? Beaming my husband says, "I love dark chocolate mom, do you love dark chocolate? I am 80% dark chocolate, do you want some of this?"
I'll just let that simmer with you a minute,
My boys were rolling on the floor my youngest howling "no teacher would ever believe this." My parent's are looking terribly confused and meanwhile I am shouting "NO! NO! Don't eat his chocolate!" Which only made the boys howl louder.
To her credit my mom did crack a smile and say, "No thank you I don't want your dark chocolate, and honey, you really shouldn't talk to your mother in law that way."
Now do you see why this is my kids new favorite game.
There are things I find that I can not explain to my kids. I can not explain how I woke up almost 50 years old.
I swear to you just yesterday I was in high school. I was desperately trying to figure out how to keep my head above water and out of trouble. College is a blur and their childhood - a short dream sequence.
How so I explain something I still do not understand myself? Is it really my job to teach my kids about life? Or are they here to teach me? Because there are days I know they are doing better than I am.
When did I get this old.....when did I become the "parent"? Watching my parents age does make growing up any easier. In fact the exact opposite. I used to say I wouldn't go back to high school for all the tea in china. (I don't know if tea comes from china or that was just another racist thing my grandparents said.) I would go back now if it meant that we could all go back.
It's not the lack of responsibility that I'm after, although that is a draw, it's not youth - oh to have my own boobs back though. It's people. Grandma, Ma-ma, Aunt Leona, Mom. Maybe I am naive', maybe it's the naivete'! One of grandma's saying that wasn't politically in correct was, "Youth is wasted on the young." (I know it wasn't her saying, I'm just saying, oh you know what I'm saying)
50 is old when you are 16. You look at those people and think OMG they are sooooo old. How so they get out of bed? What is left of their life? Shouldn't they be getting ready to die? And then you wake up almost 50 with two teenagers wondering how you got here. It all starts to speed up after 30 like someone hit the Fast Forward button. Or for my kids when you are finally reading this in 2055 - that was like when you would Skip the ad's to get to your video on YouTube. Hahaha. Remember that? Good Old days.
I know now that I won't get this time back - these moments and I think of all the moments that I spent doing nothing. Sleeping, worrying, watching TV, sitting on the couch in the corner talking on the phone because the phone was connected to the wall!! I ask my kids to come hang out in the kitchen while I'm making dinner, Come talk to me, keep me company. My grandmother's words come out of my mouth. Or I ask them to pick up the clothes that were washed and folded for them, Because someday you will miss that and I hear my mother. And I miss her so much my heart hurts.
Watching dementia steal my mother away, the one that I grew up with, the one that took me 35 years to understand is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Youth isn't wasted on the young, we just don't know what it is until we hit 40. We don't really understand half the stuff that old farts told us until then!! Is anyone else still figuring out -You can't see the forest for the trees - what the hell does that mean?
Youth isn't wasted, time is wasted. All the time we spend fretting, worrying, overthinking, judging mostly ourselves. Then we get old and we know the value of time but we spend even more time fretting about our kids, worrying how they will end up, overthinking - everything, and judging mostly others but still ourselves.
All I asked my family for this year for Christmas was time. Let's spend some time together. Just hang out. Let's make some memories that I can hold onto before it all starts to slip away. Because I'm watching someone else I love slip away, and it's killing me. When that day comes all I have are memories, moments. All you will have are these moments.
I started out very sentimental, singing this song in my head and thinking about Christmas past....then I find this video to insert and started cracking up at Faith Hill's hair. It's crimped!!
Do you remember, when we though crimping was actually going to Staaaaaayyyyyy - aaayyyy - aayyy!! Baaahaaahaaa sorry for the digression.
What happened to Christmas break?! Somewhere in my life it went from "WHEN IS CHRISTMAS BREAK" to "HOLY SHIT IT'S CHRISTMAS BREAK." There is not a chance that I can get anyone's gift sent on time at this point, I haven't made a Christmas card, again, this year, and my neighbor's who are all 70 and above will start dropping off plate of cookies and the best I can do is throw some of the Ester Price candy my husband got but won't eat on a plate. (But of course I won't because then I wouldn't get to eat it)
My thirteen year-old son, who is not at all enamored with school, has been asking if he can start Christmas Break since Thanksgiving. His reasoning -there was not really all that much time between the two anyway. Me not being so enamored with my job, would tend to agree. But of course while he foresaw laying on the floor playing Xbox for hours each day with friends I was thinking of laying on the couch watching hours of Hallmark Christmas movies with my friends - Ben and Jerry.
When I was younger Christmas was all about Hope. Wishes. Christmas was when all your hopes and dreams might come true. Whether it was the latest toy or a hair crimper, or later on whether it really was peace on earth or at least in Congress. It just seems like there is something in the air this time of year.
Love
The older I got the more cynical it felt. But was that really Christmas? Or just me? The more I watch my children grow the more I learn and understand about myself. I really did listen to all the lyrics in this song again and thought about how hard it was to derail my hope, love, and focus at 8 years old when I truly thought there would be a horse for me under the Christmas tree. (If I were in Hallmark Christmas it would have been there!)
Christmas didn't change over the years, I was changing. I was finding my way, finding myself, finding my passions, or not. It made the whole world look different, especially people. Going into a mall to get one more gift would set off a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush and hours of ranting and raving about how everyone was ruining Christmas with their crazy commercialism.
It has taken me years to learn this simple fact, that I hope to help my kids learn long before I did. The feelings that I hold in my heart will manifest all around me. Protecting my heart is the most important thing that I can do for myself and my family. Keeping hope and love alive everyday is not just a Christmas thing. It's hard sometimes. Goodness knows! Life gets messy, complicated, frustrating, overwhelming, and keeping your chin up in spite of it all......
That's when we need each other. We need help in protecting our heart. And if we have learned how to do that for ourselves, we can not help one another. Not just at Christmas time in Hallmark's Christmas Village (Where the hell is this place by the way because I want to GO THERE!) but at the Mall, at the Grocery, in the parking lot, in traffic, in a crowded sidewalk. We can smile, say please, thank you and Happy Holidays, we can let in one more car, or pick up the scarf the person just dropped. We can look after each other the way we should. Not because it's Christmas, because we are all love.
Love
It sounds too simple. Too hookie. Without love in your heart, in your life, in your work, in your day it's hard to give any love back. And the more you give the more you receive. It's too easy to focus on all the love that is not out there, all the vitriol being spewed in a constant stream in TV, Radio, Social Media, and on the darn device we all carry in our pockets every minute of every day.
I'm going to take the best advice out there right - "It's easy to count your troubles, try counting your Joys instead" That device that I carry in my pocket every where I go and look at 10,000 times a day. I have changed the lock screen to this - LOVE. Just, love. To remember that beyond Christmas, beyond all the madness, there is love. That is hope.
I give up! I do. This is not a problem I can google, research, or pray away.
My kids don't have any friends and it is all my fault.
If my kids grow up to be alcoholics my husband and I do not have to take any credit for it - the genes maybe- but our children have not grown up in a house or a culture of alcohol. My husband never drinks, myself rarely. In fact so rarely the comments my kids have made about my "drinking" are comical. And they also allude me as I am writing this at 4 in the morning. There are many other things that we can take credit for and this one - no friends - it's all our fault.
I don't have girl-friends. I never have. I have made very few very close friends in my life. The older I get the more I realize that this is not normal, but I'm rounding 50 - it's not likely to change now. It's not like I didn't try throughout my life. I did! I have! But I obviously don't know what the hell I'm doing because it doesn't work for me. People come and go, or pass thru, or more likely they just say "You are so {enter a superlative} it was nice to meet you/" Then they run in the other direction.
My sister's and I are not friends. That right there should have been my first clue I suck at this. The two people in the world that have to be my friend said "F@%& Off". I clearly do not understand how to do Friendship. It really didn't dawn on me after college for quite a while. My husband and I married and figuring that out was a nightmare. What am I saying, I still haven't figured it out I am just less in triage and more in managed care.
But seeing and hearing other women in work situations talk about girls nights, and girls trips, and girlfriends I realized I was missing out on something everyone else had. It wasn't until after my first son was born and I was staying home with him that I knew I had to fix this. I joined not one but two mom's groups and we went to every Parent.Child class my husband taught. I went to playgroups and story time - You Name It! Nothing. It was a lot of - Nice to meet you, Goodbye.
When the kids got in school I volunteered, helped in the classroom, joined committees, I joined a Bunko group - not for the kids just for myself. I was in that group what like 10 years! I haven't spoken to the women since I quit. Are you convinced yet? I am Crazy right - So bat shit crazy that people meet me and run in the other direction.
Why is any of this important. Because my 16 year-old son has no social life. None. What 16 year old kid has NO social life?! One that was raised on the island of Misfit toys with his mom that's who!! And my 13 year old son - is just like his father. Very social, very outgoing, great at bringing people together. Yes, bringing THEM together...then they leave him out. My most popular kid could get the entire 8th grade class to wear pink and go to the Volleyball game for support but not one of those kids will call him to hang out. Why? Because his mom is that crazy lady that everyone says "Hi" to and then runs in the other direction.
What am I doing wrong? I truly do not have a clue. But I just want to say to my kids, probably the only ones who will ever read this when I eventually get dementia and stop using my computer and they go searching for pictures or cryptocurrency, I am sorry. I am so very sorry that your mom truly failed you in this area.
Friday's are my day "off". Early this year the young intern that I work with thought this was fabulous and asked me if I sleep in and go to the pool? Ah-No. Let me describe my last day off to you.
Last Friday, I was still up at 6 am trying to rouse the oldest from his bed. He had said he need to get up but somehow that had changed over night and he was no longer interested in getting out of bed nor me saying it 100 times. By 7 am I start the process of waking up the youngest because if I don't he won't be out of bed by 8 am. I make two lunches, some semblance of breakfast, my hydro flask full of tea, and take both boys to school.
By 8:20 I had dressed for a morning meeting, gotten one son off to school packed the lunches, made a grilled cheese sandwich, started a load of laundry, finished the dishes in the sink, loaded the dishwasher, and we were headed off to school. We stopped at the bus stop to save our neighbor girl because the bus had never shown up and I deposited them at the JrHS before the first bell rang.
I was off to get gas in the car, drop off some mail, and pick up 2 lbs of pistachio's for the office stash while also delivering 2 lbs. of coffee to my boss because we would never use it. Then I dashed downtown for a meeting hoping that I had the right building in mind and would not need to pay to park, because I did not have any cash.
A little over two hours later and my entire hydro flask of tea, I was exiting the building when it became very clear that I was not going to make it to the car let alone home with out first finding a restroom. I was in a 10 story office building downtown - easy peasy I'll just use the restroom in the lobby.
Well, No. Not so easy almost a lot of peasy as I tried the bathroom in the lobby, locked. Then someone coming off the elevator suggested I just ride up a floor I'm sure its's not locked. After 6 floors and a bladder that was screaming - STOP! I rode the elevator all the way back down and went out to the car praying I would find a somewhere nearby. I was just about to pull out of the parking lot when I see a back alley connecting to a Marathon station. Perfect! Gas station = Restroom.
I drove over and carefully extracted myself from the car because at this point I was playing Russian Roulette with my bladder. Stepping inside I spot the restroom and also the checkout counter. Being the courteous restroom non-patron I am, I smiled broadly and asked if it was ok could I just use the restroom? In broken, English, not unlike that of my husband after a morning on Viber with relatives, the man smiled and said "something something Yes Yes." Ok so I go over and both restrooms have a sign on the door that say SORRY CLOSED FOR SERVICE. I turn back around and smile at the man politely hoping that the swirling motion does not trick my bladder into thinking it's go time and say "Are you sure they are ok to use?" And once again I get "something something Yes Yes."
I'm desperate. I open the women's restroom door and it looks like a crime scene! I'm not a fan of NCIS or any of the Law & Order's but I swear to you I think I saw this on a show preview. How do I back out now?! The man was so smiley and kind and all his "Yes Yes". Almost hyperventilating from the pain of holding every muscle in my body tight I'm thinking OK - I grew up around farms, I've peed in the woods and countless soccer field porta-potty's under every condition. I'm sure I've been in worse.
Then I realize the door does not lock. I would be lying if I didn't admit that was almost the kicker that sent this over the edge but it was at that point that my bladder, sensing that it was in near vicinity of what might be relief was screaming "Yes Yes." Stepping over trash, toilet paper, what looks like road kill, and possibly a dead body or at least Jason Bourne's last disguise I used a paper towel that was not on the floor to hold on to the handicap bar because I am NOT sitting on that toilet seat under any circumstances. I pee'd for what had to be 20 minutes. My husband, a trainer, could not come up with a more torturous position. It was not unlike the scene in Austin Powers when he pees after being frozen for 20 years. All the while I have my eyes trained on the door thinking that Guy Smiley at the counter may not hesitate to send in anyone else that asks with his "something something Yes Yes."
There was at least soap and water at the sink and also a sign that made me stop and laugh so hard I might have pee's my pants in other circumstances...it read:
Given my age that was the moment that I thought Ashton Kushner would pop up off the floor from playing dead and yell "You've been punked" I have never pee'd and flee'd a gas station so fast in my life hoping that if it does end up as a viral You Tube video at least I washed my hands.
That is how my day's off seem to go...at least up until lunch.
